Dissonance
by NymphetamineOverdose
Summary: An ear-shattering melody and a heart-stabbing blade. TalonXSona "Shall we resolve this dissonance?" "Enjoy the taste of steel."


A/N: I have no idea what I am doing; an idea just came to me and I started writing. This is a prologue and that's why it's pretty short :P

Update: Edited a few parts but not much

* * *

Sona took a deep breath, attempting to recover herself. As her summoner commanded, she played the tinkling notes of the Aria of Perseverance which instantly seemed to relieve the tenseness in Amumu, then Song of Celerity, as he still seemed to limp a bit.

With eyes large, yellow and sad, he ran towards her with glum gratitude. She had often wondered if he had any muscles remaining in his body. She asked him once before, since lonely people had a way of understanding one another in manners other than speech. He had looked sullenly into the sky, and wept as he could not remember even that. Good thing he remembered to restrain himself so it didn't hurt her.

The echo of her notes lingered in the air, helping the two of them reach the mid inhibitor turret at last. Her summoner bid her to hold on a bit longer, since Ezreal would spawn soon. Lux and Renekton still had a bit longer to wait.

At this point in the match, health potions had little use, but Sona opened the bottle that she had forgotten she still had, in order to replenish what little she could. If someone were to brave enough to come at them, in which at least two of them still were, she had no means of escape. She had already struck her crescendo at Darius, Lulu, and Vayne, and she had exhausted Talon already. She had used both the Locket of the Iron Solari and Shurelya's Reverie, and she could not be sure how soon they would be available for use again. She still had flash, but her summoner seldom used the spell unless he had to.

Sona moved back and forth, circling the tower. She began to see the wave of purple minions and the dark figures of Vayne, Talon, and Darius approaching. Baron Nashor's aura lit them in a purple corona, and Sona's heart sank.

_Ten more seconds, _the summoner assured her, his thoughts hoarse with nervousness. Sona placed her hands over the strings of etwhal. She had recovered enough mana to play one more Hymn of Valor, at least to scare them off a bit. Amumu looked at her with morose determination. He still had the strength to cry some damaging tears, it seemed.

The blue wave of minions melted before the three dark champions, and the only thing protecting the mute and the mummy was the turret that would crumble in a few hits.

As her summoner commanded, the Hymn of Valor shattered against Darius and Talon, the air cutting them. The turret crumbled and then exploded into chunks of rocks, and Amumu tugged at her skirt frantically, signaling to run.

It was too late. Darius's hooked edge of his axe flew at her.

Amumu pushed Sona to safety, but got caught himself. He was preparing himself to cry, but before he could, the rains of Vayne's arrows followed by Darius's bloody axe brought the mummy to the ground. Sona ran, but a cold edge of a blade sliced into her lower back and her side. Sona clutched at the etwhal in pain, stumbling.

_Run Sona, _her summoner commanded hastily, using his flash spell towards the base. Sona played the Song of Celerity one last time, but a ring of blades suddenly appeared around her, and in an instant, a rough arm seized her from behind.

"You should have ran earlier," said a low voice into her ear. She could taste the dark pleasure the man felt in his heart then, hear the slight smirk on his face. She knew she wouldn't die permanently, but the chill of death crept into her throbbing spine as his hot breath suffocated the air around her. He loosened her grip on her then, and gently turned her around, towards the eight blades flying towards her. "I'd close my eyes if I were you," he whispered.

Sona closed her eyes as she heard the eight blades slice through the winds, and straight into her heart.

* * *

The more Sona died, the less she liked it. The first time was the least unpleasant because she didn't know what to expect. The expectation of the nothingness and the aftermath was much worse than the death itself. Anyone in the League of Justice could tell the curious philosophers what death and resurrection felt like.

Sometimes she dreamt about her battle wounds, though none of them would ever leave a scar. The one that hurt the most was when Malphite had rammed against her. She had heard all the bones on her body shatter, and was knocked up into the air so high, that bone pieces probably had turned into bone ashes when she hit the ground again. She imagined axes and gunshots would have hurt worse, but how wrong she was.

Of course, Malphite had apologized to her afterwards, and Sona, who was generally forgiving for most things, almost considered not doing so. He was made of rocks, or Monolith rather, and what fault had he but listening to his summoner as she had. But people and creatures, such as herself and Lulu had pent up feelings about these sorts of things.

Sure, they could hurt people with magic damage, but their magic made clean wounds, exhausting an enemy's mind to the point of shutting down biological functions rather than making them appear like gutted animals. The trauma they left were different even if they do the same amount of damage. No one liked to go near Annie, especially, or Brand. Burning was another sort of worst kind of pain.

After Sona's death, the match ended quickly.

Sona was glad, because while that particular death was not the worst of what she had, it was certainly not the best, if there even was the best death – perhaps slowly losing consciousness by Teemo's mushrooms. She found herself still cringing from time to time from the phantom pain she'd suffered from the blades. Her nerves there were still sensitive, it seemed.

Right after the match, Lulu had ran into her arms, inquiring if she was alright. She had given her half a cupcake she'd been saving, in which Sona had accepted for Lulu's peace of mind. It was three days old and stale. She gave it to Ziggs in secret.

Ezreal and Lux had glared at Talon harshly enough to create a stab wound in his heart, if he were anyone else.

_A bit too harsh, don't you think?_ Ezreal had said, blue eyes glowing with fury. Lux held onto his arm cautiously, but her other hand was clutching her staff so tightly that it was shaking slightly.

Talon didn't say anything to them. He had passed them by, and looked briefly to Sona to throw her an impassive glance.

Sona would have given him a forgiving smile, but she hadn't been able to do that then, and did not know if she could ever to him. Not because he killed her, but something about him frightened her. He was so dark, out of his own volition it seemed. Sona could hear people's hearts.

There were many like him in the League. Many had fallen to the darkness that stemmed from sadness, bitterness, and others came from some void, or some dark lands. Talon was a Noxian. His blade was driven from cruelty, and ironically, loyalty. All the Noxians were that way. But Talon had a thirst, it seemed. Noxus didn't mean much to him.

"Sona," a familiar voice called.

Sona turned and smiled as she saw Quinn with Valor perched on her shoulder. Her helmet was off, revealing her soft brown hair which frayed as the warm sunset breeze coursed through them.

"No dinner for you?" She said, taking a seat next to her.

Sona shook her head.

"You have to eat something," Quinn said, "you suffered a terrible wound today, I hear."

Sona managed to smile. She shook her head and played some playful notes on etwhal.

"Lux told me otherwise. She said you were… well… gravely injured," she said, trailing off.

Sona sighed. Everyone here died violently many times a day here, Sona expressed.

Quinn didn't say anything in reply to that, because it was true. "You need rest," she said instead. "After Lux returns, we are going to the bath house to get warm. Come with us."

Sona shook her head again. The warm water sounded nice, but sleeping sounded better at the moment. Poor Lux; one match after another. She was among the ten champions who was made available to any summoner for this week, and so was Garen. If she was lucky, she went with him, but sometimes, they were against one another. It was one thing to be able to avoid making friends, but no one could undo a blood bond. Sona was glad that she was not on a rotation this week. She'd been feeling weak lately, she couldn't figure out why.

Sona turned to Valor, and patted his sleek, blue feathers. He was blinking calmly, his breathing warm with his pulsating blood. His heart was as pure as any, devoted to Quinn, and in turn, Demacia. Sona liked to feed him, in chagrin of Quinn since she liked to keep him fit, but she didn't have anything at the moment.

"Don't feed him," Quinn warned.

Sona held up both her hands to indicate she didn't even have anything to feed him. She heard Valor's disheartenment, though all he did was blink. Quinn knew though.

"It's for your own good. You already had dinner anyway," she chided.

Quinn and Valor were soon summoned after that, for the last match of the day. Sona was almost summoned too, but the summoner chose to go with Janna instead. Janna was not very happy about that, for she had just taken a bath. Unfortunately for her, she was partnered with Kog'Maw.

After the matches were concluded for the day, Sona, as well as other champions of the League, received their compensations for the day. Four hundred gold for Sona today. It wasn't too bad.

As Sona made her exit, she noticed Katarina Du Couteau, staring at her.

Long red hair falling like satin down her back. Her eyes were the soft color of sea water just before it foamed onto the sands, but the glint in them was so icy that they seemed to glow. A scar as sharp as her daggers ran down her left eye, though somehow that only seemed to enhance the acute, fierce, beauty of hers. A rose with too many thorns, Katarina was Noxian through and through.

Next to her was Talon, clad in his usual hooded blue attire. A pang went across Sona's heart like blades cutting through her ribs and tissues, as it had earlier. Sona barely escaped clutching at her heart.

Katarina turned to Talon, and whispered something to his ear, which in turn, made him look towards Sona as well.

Sona quickly averted her eyes, a bit embarrassed and angry. She doubted that the merciless Noxian high commander and her father's right hand were gossiping about her, but what in Runeterra could they be talking about? Though Sona was known to play more of a support role, she could build up her magic damage and become dangerous too. She was the Maven of Strings, and can cut with sound waves where assassins needed blades to scathe anyone.

Her fear grew as the two of them began to approach her, but she stood her ground. They had no reason to do any harm to her, and she could save herself if needed with Crescendo. Besides, it was against the rules to hurt one another inside the Institute of War outside of matches. She hated showing weakness as the next champion fighting here in the League. She stared at Katarina directly. Her eyes were sharp as usual, but an uncharacteristic tenseness was there too – barely a hint of it.

"You've fought against Talon today at a match," Katarina began, voice even and calculating, like the smooth surface of a knife.

Sona nodded, turning to Talon.

A shadow was cast on his face from his hood. She noticed for the first time how very dense with darkness his eyes were. She'd always thought them some sort of a dark red color since they glowed red when he was killing, but she could see that they were actually more of a purple now. They may even have been blue at one point, like hers before the red of blood thirst stained them.

"A team of summoners are to gather in three days," Katarina continued, "you know them as the Edge Wanderers; you have been often summoned by Aesha."

Sona nodded again, wondering what this had to do with anything. Aesha was a summoner Sona knew well. She and Summoner Aesha had worked with her countless times and they had more victories together than they could count. Aesha was affiliated with the Edge Wanderers, and as most summoners were, their purpose remained a mystery to her. Edge Wanderers seemed as dark as the next group of summoners, though Aesha herself, was kind and patient. Sona always thought she reminded her of Lestara in her gentle, noble manner.

"Two among them have been replaced, by Ferohim and Dhignasar," Katarina said, "and Ferohim will summon me, and Dhignasar, Talon."

Ferohim and Dhignasar were affiliated with Noxus, though not with General Swain.

"Aesha will probably summon you. It would be pertinent to put todays differences aside," Katarina was saying, "in addition, we ask that whenever you have the time, to become more familiar with our abilities in order to perform at our best. I am afraid that we will be fighting together, hopefully for a long while," Katarina said.

Sona held up a hand, inquiring why they were telling her this. With Noxians, these kinds of plotting was hardly surprising, but still, if they were plotting something, Sona was hardly the most influential person from Demacia.

"We also ask that you do not inform anyone of this," the Du Couteau lady continued, ignoring her question. "Rest assured, this has nothing to do with Demacia. We simply need your abilities."

Sona looked to Katarina for a bit, not sure how to answer.

She had never really come in close contact with Katarina before; at least not outside of the Field of Justice. Even when they were in the same matches, Sona rarely went into the middle lane which Katarina usually went. She knew that both Katarina and Talon, as well as Cassiopeia, were aligned with Demacia for now, as they had little love for the current Grand General Swain, but the tentativeness of their alliance was that much more delicate. They may need a Demacian's help but could not ask someone more prominent like General Crownguard.

But even so, everyone had their heart's troubles. Sona was now sure that Katarina had something that was smaller and deeper than the matters of Noxus and Demacia. Katarina Du Couteau, although currently aligned with Demacia, was still a Noxian, but Sona, though she disliked the principles that Noxus lived by, found it hard to dislike some people from Noxus in the League. It was always easier to dislike a group than a person.

It warmed her heart to hear that her music had warmed General Swain, and Draven had jokingly taught her how to swing an axe the other day. She didn't dislike Katarina and Talon, even though they stabbed her many times, and besides, she'd damaged their hearing beyond repair numerous times, and even made them perform a humiliating dance before meeting their deaths on the field.

Sona considered them, the two assassins with a darkness too deep for her to comprehend. Sona had never killed anyone who could not be resurrected, but they had. Countlessly. And each life they took buried them into a deeper darkness, a one that no one else but themselves could understand. Each of them were beyond redemption, and sometimes, her music spoke to them the most. She could tell that much.

Sona nodded in reply.

It was not a conversation, but a negotiation. Katarina walked away without further instructions or even a good night. Talon followed silently.

Beneath her foot, Teemo, who'd been watching the interaction with some interest (while invisible), began pulling at a handsomely full sack of gold to avoid looking suspicious. He had outdone himself today, apparently, and gained two thousand. Unfortunately, that was too heavy for a small yordle like him. Even Sona's four hundred felt heavy. Twisted Fate, who was passing by, decided to help him, in which Teemo jokingly promised that he'd give him one freebie on Toxic Shot the next time they were against each other. Lulu asked half of her pay in cupcakes. Tristana looked at the ceiling, mumbling about how age meant nothing.

Sona retired to her quarters, exhausted and fatigued. She had a dreamless sleep, and woke up at dawn with an ache in her heart. She supposed that it would last a while.


End file.
